


Love with Every Stranger (the stranger the better)

by buttercupsanddandelions



Series: Witcher One-Shots [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Jaskier has a big heart, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Ode to the little things, Pining, just a smidge of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercupsanddandelions/pseuds/buttercupsanddandelions
Summary: Jaskier is blushing now, that smile setting something alight in him, an almost familiar feeling. He does this all the time, he knows, but he can never help himself.So what if he falls a little bit in love with strangers?Or,The five times Jaskier fell in love with a stranger and the one time they loved him too.
Relationships: Coën/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witcher One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893364
Comments: 21
Kudos: 125
Collections: Our Favorites





	Love with Every Stranger (the stranger the better)

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this tumblr post about falling in love with strangers and my brain immediately had to write it. 
> 
> Also, today is my birthday so consider this a present from me to you!

_There's an art to life's distractions_

_To somehow escape the burning weight_

_The art of scraping through_

_Some like to imagine_

_The dark caress of someone else_

_I guess any thrill will do_

* * *

  
  


_Coën_

Every day Jaskier walks from his shitty studio apartment to the nearest subway line to get to school or work. He always has his headphones in place, the type that goes over your ear (earbuds make him cry after ten minutes of use), and imagines himself the star of his own music video. Of course, it would be better if he was listening to the songs he’s written, but the opportunity to record in a studio hasn’t presented itself to him just yet. It’s fine, Jaskier can be patient, he knows he’ll be a star one day with everyone knowing his name.

Jaskier’s running a bit late today because he couldn’t find his drawstring khaki shorts that absolutely went with his button-up shirt full of mythical looking tigers and crochet camisole. He spends precious seconds tucking the shirts into his shorts so they look just right before grabbing his backpack and keys. 

He’s exiting his apartment building when he realizes he forgot to bring his headphones and resigns himself to a sad fast-walk to the subway.

The lunch rush crowd hasn’t infiltrated the subway station yet so Jaskier can still take his usual subway. He leans against one of the many pillars and pulls out his phone to see if he has any notifications. 

Which he doesn’t.

He debates on whether it’s better to scroll through Twitter or Instagram when he catches someone moving out of the corner of his eye. Jaskier briefly glances at them, the man is wearing an anorak jacket, slightly strange considering the bright and sunny day they’re having, but Jaskier doesn’t know if they run cold or not so he can’t really judge. No, the interesting thing about the man is that his nose is buried in a book and yet he still manages to dodge people as he comes across them, not once lifting his head to look at them. The man eventually settles himself on one of the benches and with that Jaskier returns to his phone.

Soon enough the robot voice is announcing to the group of people waiting for the subway car to let the passengers off first. Jaskier locks his phone and puts it back into his pocket and follows the people trailing in. 

The man with the book follows at a sedate pace almost like he doesn’t even care that he might miss the subway because he has his head somewhere else.

Jaskier walks into the car and looks for a seat and fortunately finds one next to a couple of elderly women. Elderly women love Jaskier for his rosy cheeks and boyish grin, he sits down next to one of the women and is roped into a conversation on the benefits of light brown sugar versus dark brown sugar in baking. Jaskier has no clue, he’s never baked in his life, but nods his head at the right moments.

One of the women, Rosa, he thinks she introduced herself as, spins their debate to tres leches cake and flan and that’s where Jaskier loses the thread of the conversation. He decides to people-watch, as one usually does on the subway, and finds himself looking at the man with the book again sitting right across from him.

Jaskier can’t make out much of his face from behind his book, but from what he can see the man has almond skin with an evenly shaved buzz cut. His eyebrows are furrowed as he turns the page of his book, his eyes darting back and forth as he reads at a ferocious pace. Jaskier takes the chance to see the name of the book that has the man so enraptured and is pleasantly surprised to find him reading _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_. 

Jaskier knows those tales are, well, grim in nature, but he’s never seen someone read them with such passion. And even though Jaskier is lacking in musical accompaniment today, he can’t help but imagine a scenario where the man is giving him such ardent attention. 

Would this stranger find passion in the most mundane of things and with his own care for it, make it extraordinary? Would this stranger try with all his might to understand every part of Jaskier, even the parts he doesn’t know himself? Would this stranger allow someone to gently unease the furrow in his brow with a loving thumb and kiss?

The man abruptly looks up and makes eye contact with Jaskier. Jaskier can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed to be caught shamelessly eyeing up the man, no, he’s too lost in deep brown eyes that look like they hold no end. The man smiles awkwardly before diving back into his fairytales.

Jaskier is blushing now, that smile setting something alight in him, an almost familiar feeling. He does this all the time, he knows, but he can never help himself.

So what if he falls a little bit in love with strangers?

* * *

_Lambert_

The sound of the rain beats against the window front creating a heavy rhythm that makes Jaskier yearn for his notebook and pen. He’s, unfortunately, stuck at the counter watching the clock until his relief comes in, but with every drop of rain, it feels like time slows to a crawl.

There are no customers at the moment, all of them scared off by the rainstorm, so Jaskier is free to daydream until the next distraction comes in and interrupts his vision. The store’s playlist is playing some acoustic version of a pop song he’s sure he’s heard a million times before but cannot think of the name for the life of him. The sound of the guitar mixing with the beat of the rain lulls him to a hazy place where he can imagine something different from the life he’s living. 

He can’t peel his eyes away from the window front, watching as people walk by clenching their umbrellas, is the rain that bad? Jaskier can’t tell, although he did forget to check the weather today and did not bring his own trusty umbrella to work, so he hopes that the worst of the downpour ends soon. 

In the dour gray of the day, there is a flash of color. A man with sodden red hair and a lemon yellow raincoat slowly walks in front of the shop. Unlike everyone else, he’s taking his time walking. He glances at the storefront and nods to himself before opening the door. He lets in some of the freezing air which sends goosebumps racing up Jaskier’s arms and smiles apologetically. The man wipes the bottoms of his boots across the mat in front of the door so he doesn’t leave too many waterlogged footsteps.

It should feel awkward, watching this man as he meanders up to the counter and gazes at the menu above Jaskier’s head, but all he can feel is that there’s something nice about the comforting silence of the man.

The man speaks with a gruff but gentle voice like he doesn’t want to scare Jaskier with the cadence of it, “Can I get a hot chocolate, please? And can you add extra whipped cream?” The man has a sweet tooth and it does funny things to Jaskier’s heart, alas, he is at work and has to remind himself that he’s not allowed to flirt with customers after what happened last time. He gives his name away when prompted, Lambert, sweet lamb of a man, and Jaskier finishes ringing him up.

Jaskier hums along to the music playing overhead as he heats up milk, his body following the beat as he pulls out both mocha and vanilla syrups to drizzle into a reinforced paper cup. He mixes it until it’s the perfect shade of brown and dollops plenty of whipped cream before placing the lid atop it. It’s a struggle to put the cup into a sleeve but he eventually manages it. Jaskier turns back towards the counter with the drink and calls for Lambert. He takes the drink out of Jaskier’s hand, his fingers grazing the back of it. Jaskier hopes Lambert can’t see him blush from an accidental touch.

Lambert takes the drink to one of the tables scattered around and sits, both of his hands are cradling the cup, trying to leech the warmth from it. He takes a hesitant sip before placing it on the tabletop. 

Jaskier should be cleaning the bit of mess he made before Essi comes in for her shift, but he’s distracted by Lambert’s face and his laugh as he pulls out his phone, thumbs moving rapidly across the screen as he chuckles.

Such a warm noise.

He takes a few more sips of the hot chocolate before standing up again, “Thank you.” And he’s gone just like that. Jaskier needs to clean the floors, he knows he does, but when his eyes follow Lambert’s figure he catches him doing the strangest thing.

Lambert’s head is thrown back towards the sky, arms outstretched, he’s getting soaked by the rain and seems to be enjoying it. He’s laughing again and Jaskier is burning with the need to know why. But after a moment, he reigns himself in and continues walking, the cup still in hand as he makes his way down the street.

Does Lambert enjoy the little things in life? Would he take time out of his day to entice Jaskier to join him in his nonsensical ways? Would he beckon Jaskier to love life just that little bit more?

Jaskier is stuck pondering the enigma that is Lambert until Essi bursts through the door bringing in more water to mop up. “I’m sorry I’m late, but the rain is something else today.” She walks towards the hallway that leads to their break room and pauses, “Dandy, you okay?” Her eyes catch onto something and she sighs, her face scrunches up, “Did it happen again?”

Jaskier breaks out of his silence, “Whatsoever did you mean my dear?” He lays the charm on thick, unsure if he wants to know what Essi found.

“Did you fall in love again?”

* * *

_Yennefer_

“ _Listen_ , I had no idea what was happening. How was I supposed to react, huh?” 

Jaskier’s trying to explain his side of a drunken tale to his good buddy Zoltan, but Priscilla and Essi keep booing as he tells it. Zoltan’s laughter is music to his ears though because Jaskier _loves_ to make people laugh. He opens his mouth to try to finish his story when Priscilla elbows him in the side.

It has an unfortunate side effect of making him spill the last of his drink which causes him to sharply gasp and point at her, “You! So rude!” He lightly taps at the back of her hand, taking extra precaution to show that he’s not actually mad at her. 

“Go get another drink Jaskier, and maybe we’ll let you finish telling your story.” Essi teases him and ruffles his hair, ruining the intentional bedhead look he was going for. He grumbles to himself but gets out of the booth they’ve placed themselves in and heads to the bar counter.

The bar they’re at tonight has an eclectic bunch, college students mingling with office workers and the like. It makes for an interesting group to try to pick someone up in, not that picking someone up is Jaskier’s intention, but if it happens it happens. 

The crowd around the bar counter is tightly bundled together so Jaskier has to squeeze in to have a chance at ordering a refill on his Screwdriver. He starts tapping on the counter but stops almost immediately when his fingers land on something sticky. He makes a bleh face and subtly wipes his hands on his jeans.

Jaskier resigns himself to waiting a couple of minutes for one of the bartenders to notice him when he’s shoved. Well, not shoved, but pushed a few inches when he did not expect to be moved at all. He turns his head to see what caused it when he sees the most beautiful woman in the bar, the city, the world.

His words have been stolen out of his mouth but his ears still work. 

The woman pushes a man further away, her brilliant violet eyes smoldering as she dictates, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you think you can try that shit again I will stab you in the neck with my stilettos. I won’t hesitate, bitch.”

Jaskier whimpers.

His hands are clenched as he listens to the most beautiful woman in the world rip this asshole a new one, he doesn’t know what the man did, though he can suspect. Jaskier desperately wants to step in and yet wants to see her continue her one-woman tirade. 

It’s beautiful, it’s haunting, it’s enchanting.

He wants to lay down on the floor and let her step on him if she wants.

The man seems to get the hint and storms off but not before nudging Jaskier’s shoulders again, though this time he’s prepared. The woman makes eye contact with him and Jaskier can feel his heart skip a beat and a blush furiously rise to his face, “Sorry about that.” She squeezes in next to him and flags down the bartender and immediately gets their attention, “Vodka cranberry and whatever this idiot wants.” She nudges her head towards Jaskier.

The bartender looks to him and Jaskier opens his mouth and nothing comes out of it. He gives a little cough, embarrassed, and tries once more, this time getting out a timid answer of a Screwdriver. The woman laughs at him and all it does is send his blood rushing south, and what an awful way to discover a new kink. 

When they get their drinks the woman clinks her glass to his, “Thank you.”

Jaskier’s flabbergasted, what did he do to earn the thanks of this goddess? He sputters, “Shouldn’t I be thanking you? For the drink?” His other hand is awkwardly flapping at his side, sure that he missed some sort of memo.

The woman smiles, and oh, _this_ is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, he’s sure of it. “Thank you for not getting involved. I know how men can be, wanting to insert themselves where they’re not wanted just so they can say they saved the day.” Her smile slightly sours but does nothing to diminish her beauty in his eyes.

“Oh, that, that was no problem for me.” He talks a mile-a-minute, “You definitely look like you had that covered, I mean, the vine reference sold me on the fact that you had it under control.” 

She laughs and raises her hand, he stares at it blankly until she lifts a perfectly arched eyebrow. He raises his own hand to meet hers, she gives a very firm handshake and introduces herself, “Yennefer.”

He gives his own name and when she releases his hand he shakes it out, almost exaggerated, almost not, because that handshake was _very_ firm. He makes her laugh once more before she says, “Well as nice as this was I do need to get back to my friends.” She points them out, and wow, that is a group of women that look like they can kill him with a pinky. 

They wave at them and he waves back. “I gotta get back to my own friends.” His friends do _not_ wave at them because they’re mean people. 

They part ways and when Priscilla asks what took him so long he buries his head into his hands, “I met the love of my life.” He’s not sure if they heard him, but going off of the hand patting his head, he’s sure they did.

He can't help but imagine if his life were to revolve around Yennefer, she's as bright as the sun. 

He wonders if she would be as quick to defend him, for as charming as he can be he is far more of an embarrassment the majority of the time. He imagines how fierce their conversations could get because she looks like someone who doesn’t hold themself back. He thinks about the fire in her eyes and the steel of her spine and how she can conquer the world if she desires. 

Jaskier feels his heart flutter and knows that, once again, he is fucked. 

* * *

_Vesemir_

Maybe taking a walk through the park wasn’t the best idea. There are couples galore, holding hands, cuddling up to each other, the adventurous ones have taken to making out when they think no one is looking. 

Great for them, really, Jaskier is all for celebrating love in all forms. It’s just that, well, he hasn’t been kissed in a while and it might be getting to him. 

Not due to lack of trying, that’s for sure. People usually flock to Jaskier for his charm and his looks and his voice, but the lack of depth that these encounters bring has started to make his heart hurt more often than not so for the time being Jaskier is remaining chaste with his affection.

Jaskier, lost in his maudlin introspection as he is, fails to notice the ducklings at his feet. “Oh, hello duckies.” He’s not too sure about what he’s supposed to do; does he feed them, look for their mother, look for someone who knows anything about ducks?

He takes a hesitant step forward and all the little ducklings follow him, and how can he just leave them there? He looks around, their mother has to be around somewhere, and there she is across the pond. He glances back down, “Well my duckies, looks like we’re going on an adventure.” 

The pond is, fortunately, not that large, and the ducklings seem content following him around in their own little parade. He’s sure he’s getting funny looks and maybe his picture taken, but he is a man on a mission and will not be distracted by the whispering of people and the flashes of their phone cameras. 

He reaches the mother duck and with her, an older gentleman with graying hair and the coziest cardigan Jaskier’s ever seen outside of holiday-themed movies. He’s kneeling down, gently petting the feathers as he feeds her something out of his hands. Jaskier opens his mouth to warn him of the dangers of feeding ducks bread crumbs when the man looks up at him.

_Oh._

Well, Jaskier never knew he was into older men, but here he is with his face struck silly at the sight of the man’s amber eyes shining behind wire-frame glasses. The man slowly rises and Jaskier instinctively tries to give him a hand but is waved off. He tries to wipe off some of the dirt on his jeans but only succeeds in smearing the dirt further into the light blue denim. The man sighs and gives Jaskier an _oh well_ look.

“I see you found the wee ones.” The older man attempts a smile, it comes out looking like a grimace, but Jaskier can tell he has the spirit. “You wouldn’t happen to have any more oats on you, would you, lad?” He reveals what he has in his palm, only a few bits of oats remain, the rest, presumably snatched up by the mother duck. “I seem to be lacking in provisions for the bairns.” 

Jaskier is relieved that his vocal cords are online again, “Unfortunately not, my good sir, however, I’m sure there’s a street vendor selling something suitable for little duckies.” Jaskier checks their surroundings, and sure enough, there’s a cart not too far from them selling all sorts of snacks. “If you don’t mind watching the kids, I can pop off real quick and grab something?”

The man chuckles, his eyes burn bright, “Sure, as long as you don’t try to disappear while getting milk.” 

His lips curl up at his dumb joke and Jaskier can’t help but laugh, “Don’t think I could afford child support for five ducklings, darling.” Jaskier looks down at the little group of ducks and smiles to himself, “Now, my dears, please be good for daddy; your papa will bring back some yummy food for you.” He looks towards the man again and bites his cheek at the familiar glint in his eyes, “I’ll just be a second.” Jaskier turns around before any blush can give away his feelings and jogs towards the street vendor.

As luck would have it, the vendor does sell little baggies of assorted goodies, all suitable for aquatic fowl. Jaskier buys two baggies and walks back to his new stranger. 

It’s awful how fast Jaskier’s heart clings to someone while knowing he has no chance in hell of keeping them because Jaskier has always been _too much_. And now, not for the first time this year, Jaskier desperately wants this stranger to want him, to keep him, even if it’s just for a little bit.

His stranger has taken to sitting on the muddied ground, the ducklings all clamoring for a spot in his lap, and he just sits there with a stoic look on his face, all the while trying to pet every one of them. Jaskier can feel his heart swell at the care and attention this man gives to these tiny little animals and he _wants._

He wants to be the one in this man’s lap, taking up all his attention. He wants to be shown the same amount of attention and care and love. He wants, just for once, to be a precious thing to somebody.

Jaskier bites his lip and blinks back the tears, no reason to alarm the man after all. He makes sure to make his reappearance as bright and boisterous as possible, dragging the duckling’s attention back to him.

The man holds out a hand for one of the baggies Jaskier carries; Jaskier hands it to him and with it his very battered heart.

* * *

_Eskel_

The fluorescent lights overhead are starting to give Jaskier a headache. If he were brave he’d pull his sunglasses out of his inner jacket pocket and wear them around the rest of the store. Alas, he is too much of a coward to give people the impression that he’s drunk or high off his ass so he settles for the pinprick sensation in his head.

He wishes he could abandon his cart in the middle of the aisle and say _fuck it_ and crawl back towards the bus stop, but he’s more than halfway done with his grocery list and at this point, making the time to come back here between his classes, his job, and his busking is almost impossible. Jaskier groans and starts pushing his cart once more.

It’s a Tuesday night, so the grocery store is bereft of customers. Jaskier can push his cart anywhere he wants without risk of bumping into someone else, so he closes his eyes for a bit as he goes down the cereal aisle. He knows he reaches the end of the aisle because the lights get brighter and the background noise of the workers isn’t as muffled without very large shelves enclosing him in. 

He’s just about to make a right to go down the next aisle when he catches a glance of the basket of his cart and realizes he never hit up the produce section. Jaskier has a decision to make, he can skip the produce section entirely and continue down the few remaining aisles until he’s ready to pay for his stuff. Or he can go to the opposite side of the store and pick up some avocados because he’s a slut for avocado toast.

Fuck it, he really wants the avocado toast.

Jaskier goes left towards the shelves of the produce section with its bright lights and fancy spritzing thing it does to make everything look appetizing. 

He knows exactly where his favorite fruit is and beelines right towards it, just barely avoiding a crash with a bear of a man. Jaskier throws out an apology behind his shoulder before getting his hands on the avocados, testing each one for how mushy it feels. He definitely wants to get at least two ripe ones so he can eat it when he gets home, but he also needs to get some for later in the week.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the man he almost hit, and he really is that big, his shoulders look very biteable and his forearms look delicious with dark hair and scars. Jaskier tries to catch a glimpse of the man’s face, but the man is quick for his size and is already at the shelves with bundles of vegetables lovingly spritzed with water.

Jaskier’s curiosity is peaked; the man’s hands flutter over the vegetables, hesitating to touch them, and oh that’s something you don’t see every day. Jaskier sneaks a bit closer, wanting to see what else the man would do. He’s looking at the carrots, one of them on the verge of tipping over. The man tsks and grabs it with a delicate grasp, the grasp of someone all too aware of how big they are, he mutters to himself, “Oh no sweetheart, don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.” He places it in the middle of the bunch, somewhere it won’t risk falling, “There you go.”

The man does the most charming thing ever and Jaskier has to fight back the urge to smile like a loon. He looks up and Jaskier has to pretend he wasn’t watching this man be an absolute dish to a vegetable of all things. Jaskier glances up and catches the man’s eyes, a lovely light brown, and his face is that of a Greek god, Jaskier’s sure of it. A strong jawline and aquiline nose, straight brown hair frames his face. There is a vicious-looking scar marring the right side of his face and cuts into his lip, exposing a few of his teeth, but it does nothing but endear this man to Jaskier. 

Jaskier gives him a quick smile and the man ducks his head, a furious blush coloring his cheeks, he mutters, “Sorry,” and starts to walk away.

Jaskier can’t have this gorgeous man walk away embarrassed, so he calls out, “It’s okay, it was very cute.” He can’t help but grin again when the man gives him a surprised look. “I’m sure the carrot was happy to be saved from their fate.”

The man huffs and gives a shy little grin, “I’d like to think so too.” He gives the carrots one last glance-over, turns to Jaskier and nods, and walks away.

With the man gone there’s nothing keeping Jaskier in the produce section any longer so he heads back to the other side of the store to pick up the rest of the stuff on his list, mentally scratching it off when he adds a new item to his cart.

Jaskier heads to the registers and waits patiently behind a mother and her baby, he makes funny faces at the baby while the mother talks to the cashier to make the baby laugh and he succeeds. His attention is called back to the mother who gives a little groan of annoyance. Jaskier looks to the cashier to see if this is a _Karen_ situation that he needs to involve himself in, but no, the cashier looks concerned as the mother looks through her wallet and counts out the bills in her hand. 

“I’m sorry.” The mother’s voice is thick with tears as she starts to put some of her groceries back onto the conveyor belt, “I thought I brought enough with me, but I guess not.” She chuckles self-deprecatingly, and oh how Jaskier’s heart breaks for her. 

He clears his throat to announce his presence and when both the cashier and the mother look at him his palms grow sweaty, but he continues, “I can pay for it ma’am if you don’t mind.”

The mother clutches her baby tight to her chest and looks at him with tear-filled eyes, “No, I can’t ask that. You don’t even know me.”

“Well, I’ve made acquaintance with your child, hello there dear,” He waves at the baby, “and let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes and wish I had someone to help me. So this is me, helping you, and one day you’ll help someone too.” He pulls out his wallet, “How much do you need?” 

The cashier gives him the total and he hands her the appropriate amount of cash. He waits for the receipt and hands it off to the mother, “There you go, love, just remember to pay it forward, yeah?” The woman hugs him tight with one arm, “And we’re hugging now.” Jaskier says to himself and pats her back. “Don’t cry, wouldn’t want to worry the little one here.” He pulls away from the hug, the woman wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand and thanks him before putting the groceries in her cart. Her baby waves at him just once and Jaskier feels amazing.

“That was a nice thing you did.” The cashier starts scanning his own groceries, “Don’t really get to see people do stuff like that anymore.”

Jaskier chuckles to himself, “Well just doing what I wished someone to do for me.” The cashier gives him his total, this time he pulls out his debit card and swipes it on the pin pad, “Sometimes we all want to be rescued, you know?” The cashier nods before giving him his receipt.

He takes one last look around the store before he heads out, hoping for a glimpse of his stranger, but has no luck.

Jaskier wishes he had stopped the man from leaving before getting his name. For how big the man was he had a sort of delicacy to him that made Jaskier want to wrap him in wool to protect him from the world.

And that leads Jaskier down a rabbit spiral of wondering how soft and tender that man could be. Would he want to be held and made to feel like a protected thing? Is he self-conscious about his scars, and how could Jaskier help to make him feel as gorgeous as he looks? Does he do charming things all the time and if so, how can Jaskier make himself a witness? Jaskier wants to see that man smile big and bright and unafraid of any judgment.

He closes his eyes and braces himself for the hurt his heart is going to feel in the morning when he doesn’t wake up next to his handsome stranger.

* * *

+1

Jaskier’s debating on buttoning his shirt past his chest, it would make him look more decent, however, he is _loving_ his chest hair today and wants to show it off.

Question is, would showing it off at his best friend’s family’s barbeque be an appropriate thing?

He taps his chin and ponders, buttons it, and unbuttons it. He sighs, he isn’t the right one to make this choice, he needs a neutral party. 

Jaskier pulls out his phone and facetimes Geralt. He answers at the very last second, the bastard, and the camera has a very nice view of his ear and some of his undercut. “What is it, Jaskier?”

“Gerry please, this is a video call, now show me your dumb gorgeous face.” Geralt grumbles but acquiesces. “Ah yes, there’s your lovely mug. Now, dear heart, please tell me if this is too slutty for your family’s party.” Jaskier switches the view on the camera so it faces his full-length mirror. He poses outrageously to make Geralt laugh, “Or maybe not slutty enough? You tell me, Gerry, I remember your freshman year and the line of suitors outside your door. Is your whole family like you or were you sexing it up to escape some conservative shit, because if so, you’re legally obligated as my best friend to tell me if I need to scream at some bigots.”

Geralt sighs and looks up, “Why are we friends again?”

Jaskier answers, “Because I needed someone with a scary face in my life and you wanted to soften your image? Or maybe it was that one time we-”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that.” Geralt cuts him off, “Besides I thought it was because you fu-”

Jaskier stops him, “Nope! Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Geralt snorts, “Alright, fine.” 

Jaskier can see him move around in his own apartment and hears the jangling of keys. “Are you leaving to pick me up now?” Geralt nods his head and closes his front door behind him, “Ok, but you didn’t answer my question; is my shirt fine like this or do I need to be all proper for the day?”

Geralt looks back at the screen, “You look fine Jask, don’t worry about my family, they’re all gonna love you.”

“You think so?”

“Don’t fish for compliments.”

* * *

When they get to Geralt’s family home Jaskier realizes he should’ve been worried for different reasons. Geralt’s already making his rounds saying hello to everyone while Jaskier’s frozen in the doorway.

Every one of Geralt’s family members is someone he fell a little bit in love with, someone that held his heart in the palm of their hand and never knew.

There goes the bookworm laughing it up with the man with the yellow coat. And there’s the older gentleman making small talk with the Greek God. And of course, Geralt is chatting it up with the most beautiful woman in the world.

How does Geralt know these people and how did he not recognize them from Jaskier’s retelling of the events after they happened?

Jaskier bites his lip and wonders if he can make a clean get-a-way before Geralt realizes he’s left. But nope, Geralt calls his name from across the room and everyone’s looking at him and isn’t this just great.

He makes the walk of internal shame over to Geralt and allows himself to be clapped on the back by Geralt’s meaty claws, “Jaskier, this is Yennefer.”

“We’ve met.”

It definitely shouldn’t send a shiver up his spine to hear their voices in sync, and yet, here they are.

Geralt looks back and forth between him, oh his brain must be working overtime to find out how they could possibly know each other. So, Jaskier throws him a bone, “Remember I told you, about the bar.” Geralt makes the funniest face and Jaskier can’t help but laugh at him.

He turns back to Yennefer, taking extra care to not blush like a schoolboy in front of her because her eyes are still full of fire, “Nice to see you again Yennefer, but Geralt and I here need to have a talk.” Jaskier grabs Geralt’s arm and drags him to the kitchen that no one is occupying.

Geralt glares at him, “You wanted Yennefer to _step on you_.” 

Jaskier sighs and rests his head against Geralt’s shoulder, “Gerry why didn’t you tell me your whole family was full of very hot people that I might be in love with already?”

“My dad’s not hot.”

“Yes he is, he has the daddy vibe.”

Geralt nudges him away from his shoulder, “Jaskier, please tell me you didn’t call my dad daddy to his face, please.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, “No? Well, yes technically, but like, not in the sexy way so I don’t think it counts.”

“It absolutely counts.”

“Shut up, no it doesn’t.”

Geralt sighs and hops up onto the kitchen island, “Okay, so my dad was the duck dude and Yen was the very scary very sexy lady. That just leaves my brothers, Lambert and Eskel, and my cousin, Coën.”

“Well, Lambert was the guy from work, the one with the coat, remember? And then I think your cousin was the fairytale guy from the train and that leaves your other brother as my grocery store darling.” Jaskier ticks them off as he remembers all of his brief encounters with these lovely people.

They hear someone down the hallway and pause their conversation to wait for whoever’s making their way towards the kitchen, but no one shows up. Geralt and Jaskier look at each other and without saying a word they both make their way down the hallway.

The sight of these five people all crowded around each other as they try to listen in on his and Geralt’s conversation makes Jaskier laugh like a loon. These people had no shame and Jaskier couldn’t help but fall a little bit more in love with them.

“This is awkward.” Jaskier can’t help himself, “So we’ve all met before, wonderful. Now if we can pretend you didn’t hear my _private_ conversation earlier then we can all get back to our lives.”

“Is it true?” Eskel pulls apart from their group. He looks embarrassed to call attention to the elephant in the room, “What you said, that you fell in love?”

They’re all looking at him again, all trying to catch his eye, Jaskier can’t help but feel faint. He never expected to meet these people again, he thought he could hold his love for them inside his heart until his heart was too full for another. And yet, they all look at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Jaskier whispers, “Yes.” He swallows past the ball in his throat, “I do this thing where,” he waves his arm around, “well, where I fall in love at the drop of a hat. It could be anything, a man’s smile, a woman’s glare. Just about anything, really, and as it turns out I fell a little in love with all of you at some point during the year.” He wraps his arms around himself, he feels silly now for not buttoning up his shirt properly, it’s left him feeling exposed.

The group look at each other and back at Jaskier; he prepares himself to be yelled at, to be told to leave. He just hopes Geralt goes with him because he’s only ever felt comfortable breaking down with Geralt there to pull him back together.

He doesn’t know when he’s closed his eyes, but he opens one to see what the hold-up is. And there they are, smiling faces he’s longed to see. One by one they come up to him, telling their own side of the story.

“You listened to them, the old ladies on the train. You had no idea what they were talking about but you still listened.”

“I don’t know if you noticed what you were doing, but when you were making my drink, you were humming and tapping and dancing and you just looked so happy.”

“I told you already, you let me take care of myself. Nobody ever lets me. Well, that and you looked like you wanted me to step on you.”

“You were so delicate with the little ducklings, almost like you knew how it was to be that tiny and helpless, and like I helped take care of those ducks, I wanted to take care of you too.”

“You didn’t laugh at me. And you smiled, and you made the baby laugh, and you helped the lady. You were just so unabashedly you.”

Jaskier feels like he could melt, he might’ve already melted. He pokes Geralt’s arm to see if he’s still solid and when Geralt gives him an exasperated look he knows he’s there, at this moment, with all these people who possibly love him too.

It’s all Jaskier could’ve asked for, truly. He hangs onto Geralt’s arm, “Well Gerry, this sure was one way to bring me into the family.” Geralt flicks his ear and he yelps but it’s alright.

Jaskier feels loved.


End file.
